


Escape Velocity

by Braincoins



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Spoilers for Season 1, prompt, shallura sundays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9137743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Braincoins/pseuds/Braincoins
Summary: The past is painful to Shiro, but there is hope for the future.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Shallura Sundays 3rd prompt: History. Even less literal than [“Home”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8867257) was, though this is the companion piece to that. Takes place during season 1. 
> 
> Thanks to [@tenjounotora](https://tenjounotora.tumblr.com/) for the title! Also, shoutout to AO3 user Reggielove for suggesting I do a companion piece to "Home" in the first place. ^_^  
> ==========================

            The first time he saw her, she was an alien threat. But she had hold of Lance – by the ear, no less – and she quickly made it clear that she was defending rather than attacking. Shiro was acutely aware that they were the invaders here. He tried to defuse the situation, even as part of him screamed _not again not again not another crew captured by aliens no no NO._ There was pain and anger and guilt eating at him and he wasn’t always sure why because the memories weren’t there to explain. He had to take a step back, stay calm, and do what he could to protect them all from… whatever this new alien had in mind.

            He couldn’t have known then how quickly it would all change.

            He would never have guessed that he’d have some sort of connection to an alien – to _any_ alien, but especially Allura: a princess of a civilization that had been so advanced so long ago that current human technology was little better than crude stone tools in comparison. He shouldn’t have had anything in common with her, but then she’d said the name “Zarkon.”

            Flashes, pictures, mostly emotions, mostly fear, swallowed down as much as he could because he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. There were no explanations, just the sights and sounds and the racing of his heart. But it was a point of commonality between him and this alien princess: Zarkon, and the desire to right the wrongs done to them at his hands.

            He had only her word for it that she was a princess, but if she wasn’t, she was a damn good actress. There was a sort of …aura that true leaders had (as opposed to just “those in leadership positions”, who, in Shiro’s military experience, had proven to be generally middle-manager suck-up types more than actual leaders). Princess Allura possessed that aura in spades. She projected confidence and was generally decisive. She had that one moment where she was unsure what to do, but her time with King Alfor’s AI had given her direction. It didn’t diminish her leadership qualities in his eyes, especially given that she’d just been in stasis for ten thousand years and awoken to a vastly different universe. That was bound to knock the wind from you a bit.

            And ever since then, she’d been steady and committed to the cause. Perhaps a bit too much so: she could be a harsh taskmistress at times. He could handle it, but he worried about the guys. They were so young, and he’d signed them up for a war from the second he’d said, “We’re with you, Princess.” He thought she was too hard on them sometimes, but he understood where she was coming from. As best he could, anyway. And, in time, they all stepped up on their own, and she began to ease down a little.

            Somewhere along the way, he stopped thinking of her as “an alien.” She was just Allura, _Princess_ Allura – he could never forget her title – and the more he learned about her, the more he wanted to know. Not just about her, of course, but about where she came from. That was actually one of the most profound differences between them: home.

            He wanted to know more about Altea for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was to learn about the amazing civilization that was responsible for everything around them. But he also wanted to know because it took his mind away from Earth. Where Allura seemed happy to talk for hours about a home she’d never see again, the thought of his own home so far away hurt him. He missed his home. He missed his family. He missed festivals and holidays. He missed feeling safe.

            He hadn’t really thought of it that way at the time, of course. He’d thought that there must be aliens out there because the idea that they were alone in the universe was… lonely. He’d wanted to meet them as badly as Matt and the commander did. He should have known. He should have been prepared. He should have done any number of things to protect his crew and himself.

            Sometimes, he wished he had no memories at all. He could remember all the most important events in his life and thousands of trivial ones, but the better part of the last year was gone. To the extent he could remember his time in captivity, it was like a shadow play dancing at the periphery of his mind, leaving him with little more than pain.

            But remembering the past, that was painful, too. A home he might never see again. A home that might share Altea’s fate if he wasn’t careful. He had to stay out here. He had to keep flying and fighting. If anything, he had to get as far away from Earth as possible. So long as Zarkon’s eye was on him and Voltron, Earth would be safe. He hoped.

            It was better to listen to the princess talk about Altea. It was better to learn about something new than to dwell on the old. He liked watching her as she got lost in her memories, as her smile softened her face and her eyes gazed fondly out into the past. And sometimes, the weight of it would press on her, and he would apologize, because in running from his pain, he had caused some to her. That had never been his intention.

            He respected Princess Allura. He enjoyed learning about her civilization. He wasn’t aware it was anything more than that. Sure, sometimes he was awed simply by seeing her walk into a room. He’d never known anyone like her, never even seen anyone like her, and it had nothing to do with her being “an alien” and everything to do with that aura of command combined with the grace that flowed through her every movement. He felt privileged to have spent time with her, to have seen her smile so affectionately, even if it wasn’t at him.

            It never occurred to him that it was anything more than that until the aftermath of The Incident. He should’ve been reprimanded for spacing Sendak. He shouldn’t have lost control of himself like that. But she just patted his shoulder and said that she understood. She pointed out that she’d almost destroyed them _all_ , and that Sendak had been an enemy soldier.

            He was grateful for her understanding, but he felt guilty about it as well. He couldn’t stop hearing Sendak’s voice in his head. _Do you really think a monster like you could be a Voltron paladin?!_ And he was a monster. For spacing Sendak. For the Galra arm attached to him. For the flashes of pain in his mind sometimes – pain that wasn’t always his own. Sometimes he was the one causing it. He couldn’t remember clearly, but it was there when he woke, like an afterimage behind his eyes.

            But he pushed it away and got up, put on his uniform, and went back to work. He had a universe to defend, a home to protect, a team to lead, and a princess to serve. Not just any princess, but this woman who was both nothing and everything like him. She was regal and elegant, with strange customs and words and freaking telepathic mice, but she was also as homeless as he was, as brave, and driven by the same urges for justice and peace.

            There was no one else like her in the entire universe. She kept him from dwelling on his past by promising him a new future. It had always been true, but it crystallized for him following Sendak’s – or the Castle’s? or his own mind’s? – accusations. He wanted to prove to her (and himself) that it wasn’t true. _If I must be a monster, at least I will be hers and not Zarkon’s._

            Of course, no one else knew he thought like that. If they had, they wouldn’t have looked to him to dissuade her from going on the mission into the Galra transportation hub. How could he gainsay her? She was his leader, his superior, his princess – no, not that, perhaps, but he wanted her to be. How could he deny her a chance to fight back against the vile creature that had destroyed her home, especially now that he’d spent so long listening to her talk about it?

            But that didn’t mean he was willing to let her go into danger alone. He had to protect her, or at the very least help her. She hadn’t ordered him _not_ to come with her, and until she did so, he was going to stay by her side, dammit.

            And, of course, it all went wrong. The past he couldn’t even recall reared up, sirens blaring. “Prisoner 117-9875,” the computerized voice called him. And the only thing to do was the same thing he’d always done: Run. Escape.

            But not if it meant sacrificing her. “I’m not leaving you!” He didn’t have to think about it; the words just sprang into being. Even as he tried to weld the doors shut, images careened around in his mind of the last things he could remember clearly: the Galra ship, pulling the Holts away, running, losing traction, freefall in reverse…

            And then it was happening again – he was flying through the air. He was confused until he hit the deck and looked up again to see that he was on the other side of the escape pod door. “NO!”

            All he could do was watch helplessly as history repeated itself. He saw her smile just before they put her to her knees and then the Galra ship – and Shiro’s hope for the future – disappeared.


End file.
